


Grace

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: JohnWard Prompts [30]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Churches & Cathedrals, Doubt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, God - Freeform, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of Faith, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Religion, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn’t where Grant expected him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace

He wasn’t where Grant expected him to be.

Grant wandered into the base’s chapel. It was completely empty, save for himself and John, who was tucked into the front pew. Light streamed through the stained glass, casting shadows of red, gold and blue along the floor in the otherwise dark room, and a single candle danced on the alter; the only sound was the soft echo of Grant’s footsteps as he walked down the aisle. 

Sitting next to John, Grant stared up at the stained glass window. It had been over fifteen years since he’d stepped foot anywhere religious; it brought back too many unpleasant memories. But here, with John... it felt different. Peaceful. Maybe that’s why people found it so appealing. He turned his gaze to John, watching the movement of light and shadow across his face; his expression was neutral, but Grant could see the tension in his shoulders, and the careful, controlled way he breathed. It was a bad day.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Grant said, trying to keep his tone light.

“I’m not. Not really.” John’s eyes stayed trained on the candle flame. He was silent for a few minutes; when he spoke again, Grant averted his eyes as John’s voice cracked. “Sometimes... Sometimes I just like to think there’s someone watching over me.”

Grant rested his hand on John’s, twining their fingers. “There is.”

John didn’t answer, but he leaned just a bit closer.


End file.
